


Unfolding Time

by LadyFogg



Series: Constantine Oneshots & Prompts [10]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Dirty Talk, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hotel Sex, Language, Mirror Sex, Sex, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After your jerk of a date stands you up, John Constantine buys you a drink and soon you forget all about feeling sorry for yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfolding Time

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #11: the female readers douchebag date stood her up, and so John just flops down at her table and takes over for said douchebag date, and they go home together and kinky sexy times happen
> 
> Fic Song: https://play.spotify.com/track/3Ypwq7EnkdYqlw6NiBseYG

 

It’s been two hours and you haven’t heard from your date. The restaurant is packed, the small table you occupy getting lost in the ever growing crowd. Bodies block your view of the door and you glance away with disappointment. 

You poke at the ice chips in your empty glass with your straw, wishing you had the nerve to just leave. Checking your phone for probably the hundredth time, you're not surprised to see no notifications. Nothing. Not even a text. 

Sighing heavily, you drop the device on the table, burying your face in your hands. Why do you keep letting this happen? He stands you up, and yet you still agree to another date. He gives you an excuse and you cave every time. 

You turn to stare at the bar, where the stools are all occupied. Several men chat animatedly with each other, while a woman or two enjoy their drinks in silence. On the stool at the end, a man with dirty-blond hair and a tan trench coat sits and waves at the bartender for a beer. His eyes sweep the restaurant and for one brief moment they meet yours. He smirks, a wide, self-assured, slightly crooked smirk that makes you blush. 

Hiding your cheek under the pretense of tucking your hair behind your ear, you duck your head and avoid his gaze. Unfortunately, you’re automatically drawn to your phone, where the lack of messages is almost taunting you at this point. You scoff and turn the device face-down, unable to look at it anymore. When you glance up again, the stranger is no longer paying attention as he watches the bartender mix a cocktail. The two share a laugh and a few words, before the bartender slides the cocktail and beer in front of the blond. 

Your stomach grumbles and you decide you might as well eat while you’re there. Flipping open the menu, you scan the items with disinterest. The sound of the chair across from you being pulled out makes you look up with surprise. Instead of your date however, you find yourself looking at the stranger from the bar.  

“Um...hello.” you say. 

“Hello there yourself, love. Name’s John Constantine,” he introduces, sliding the cocktail over. “Thought you could use this.” 

It’s exactly what you had ordered yourself, meaning he had specifically asked the bartender about you. The fact that he took the time to order something you’d like instead of bringing a random drink, is not lost on you. 

“Thanks,” you say. “How did you know?” 

“Lucky guess,” John says. “Also the bartender told me you’ve been here for awhile. How many times is this?” 

You make a noise of annoyance and take a sip. “Too many to count,” you say, regarding him curiously. “So, what’s your play? Take advantage of lonely sad women who’ve been stood up?” 

John smiles. “I like to think of it as providing company to those who need it,” he says cheekily. “No expectations or plays, love.” 

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?” you ask in a deadpanned voice. 

“Really,” John repeats. “If you’re not interested, I’ll gladly piss off.” 

He is handsome, and that smirk makes your own lips twitch upwards. You had noticed him the second he sat down, and it is flattering that in a room full of eligible people he had noticed you. It’s not like you’re the only one alone.  

“Ahh, there’s a smile,” John grins, toasting you with his glass before taking a swig of beer. 

The waitress appears at your table. “Would you like to order?” she asks politely, though you know she’s probably relieved. She had to stand off to the side and watch you wait, and you have a hunch she was feeling sorry for you.  

“Well, I’m starving,” John says. “What do you say, love?”

“Yeah, food sounds amazing right now,” you agree, handing him the menu. You give your order to the waitress and when John does the same, she hurriedly scribbles them down and takes the menu from you. 

“Alright,” John says, lighting a cigarette as she walks away. “We’re going to drink and eat. Then you’ll forget all about what’s-his-name.”

“Damn straight.” 

John picks up his drink and motions for you to do the same. Mirroring his actions, you sweep your forgotten phone to the side and straighten excitedly in your seat. “To good food and good company,” you smile, extending your glass towards John. “For once.” 

John taps his drink to yours. “Aye, cheers!” 

The cocktail is exactly what you need. Alcohol warming your belly, you place your glass down and watch John with a smile. True, you’re still upset about being stood up, but at least the night won’t be a total bust.

“If we’re going to have dinner, I should at least know your name,” John says, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. 

You laugh and properly introduce yourself. “So, you said no expectations,” you say, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertips. 

John gives you a mischievous look. “Well,” he teases, cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he rests his elbow on the table. “Maybe a little bit of expectations.”

Your body warms and it has nothing to do with the alcohol. “Well,” you say, matching his teasing tone. “This is drink number two. If I get to drink number four, we’ll talk.” 

John cocks his head to the side, slipping the end of the cigarette back into his mouth. “If?” he asks. 

You cross your arms, framing your breasts as you lean on the table. He notices, smirking around the smoke. “I have to decide if it’s going to be worth it,” you say. 

John shrugs out of his coat, eyebrow raised at the challenge. He takes another drag and fixes you with a smoldering look. “I can be  _ very  _ persuasive.” 

“Oh yeah?” you question. 

John opens his mouth to respond, but a deep voice interrupts him. “Excuse me, man,” it says. “Move.” 

You look up at your date with surprise. “You’re here.” 

He’s looking at his phone, clearly texting someone. Not only does he show up ridiculously late, but he can’t even bring himself to make eye contact. “Yeah, and this guy is in my way.” 

Cigarette dangling again, John gives your date a once over, lips curling into a mocking smile. “Silly me,” he says. “When I see a pretty bird sitting alone for several hours, I think she could use company.” 

“Well I’m here,” the other man says, finally glancing up from his phone. “Beat it.”

John looks at you questioningly. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to put up a fight or make a scene. Mostly he seems to be gauging your reaction. Is this what you want? For him to leave so you can continue with the date who kept you waiting forever. You have to admit, for the first time in a while you were having fun. You don’t want that to end. 

“Actually, I’d rather he stay,” you say, earning a surprised look from your date and a smug smile from John as he places his cigarette in the ashtray. 

“But he’s in my seat,” your date says dumbly. 

“It  _ was  _ your seat, at seven o’clock,” you tell him. “At nine, it became John’s.” 

“Tough luck, mate,” John shrugs. “She’s really somethin’. You missed out.” 

You fight back a grin, busying yourself with your cocktail. 

“So what? You’re going to be a bitch because I was a little late?” your date asks. 

John’s smirk fades and he glares. “Oi, none of that now,” he begins, but you reach across the table to place your hand over his.

“John, it’s fine,” you say. You give his hand a reassuring pat and get to your feet. You’re not as tall as your date, but you do meet his eye. “I’m done waiting on you. I’ve spent—no wasted is a better word—I’ve wasted a month listening to your excuses. And for what? An asshole who can't even stop texting other people when we  _ are _ together? Fuck that. I don't need you. I’m done. We’re done. Goodbye.” 

The slack-jawed look is worth the endless waiting and anxiety you feel. You hate conflict. Always have. But the admiration on John’s face tells you that you made the right choice.

“Is there a problem?” the manager asks, coming to stand by your table. You realize everyone in the restaurant is watching the scene. 

“No, there isn’t,” you say, taking your seat. “My date, John, and I were enjoying our drinks. In fact, can we have another round, please?” 

“This bloke was just leaving,” John says, leaning back with that smug smile again. “Weren’t you?”

Your former date is still reeling by your dismissal, but has no choice. He slinks away and you hold your breath until John says, “He’s gone.” 

Exhaling slowly, you down the rest of your cocktail. 

“Ma’am, are you sure you’re alright?” the manager asks. 

You nod furiously. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say. “Just that round, if you would?”

The manager glances between you and John, seemingly still unconvinced.

“I’ll take good care of her,” John assures the woman with a grin. She nods and leaves to get your drinks. “That was bloody brilliant and I have to say, love, seeing you tell that wanker to sod off was hot.” 

You laugh, slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased. “It felt really good.” 

“I’m glad,” John says, taking a final drag. “Out of curiousity, why were you even with that imbecile?” 

You shrug with a heavy sigh. “Because I hate myself,” you say. “And no one else was interested.” 

“I’m interested,” John says, extinguishing his cigarette. 

“I gathered as much,” you tease. “Thanks for letting me handle that myself. I feel great.” 

“I like a bird who can handle herself,” John says as your fresh drinks are delivered. 

“And I like a man who is observant and makes me smile.”

“I can do much more than that, love.”

Your food arrives shortly after, which is a relief because you're starving. You thank the waitress and pull your plate closer.

“I think another toast is in order,” John says, picking up his beer. You pick up your cocktail and tap your glass to his. "To great feelings.” 

For some reason, the simple phrase sounds dirty coming from him. You watch him over the glass as you take a sip. He does the same, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Excitement makes your stomach twist briefly, hopeful for what the evening might lead to.

You and John spend the next hour eating and having a wonderful time. His animated storytelling is refreshing, reducing you to laughing fits on several occasions. By the time the food is gone, you’re on your fourth drink. 

You’re tipsy and from the glazed look in his eye, John is too. As you sign the check, he watches you carefully.

“That makes this four, if I’m not mistaken,” he says, slamming his empty cup down. 

“Yes, yes it does,” you say, pushing back so the waitress can collect your plates. John only has eyes for you, not looking away as the table is cleared. You find you can't look away either, the familiar beginnings of arousal taking shape. 

This thing with John is easy, simple. Exactly what you need. He's been giving you heated looks all throughout the meal; it's enough to get the blood coursing through your veins.

John gets to his feet, pulling his coat off the back of his chair. He slips it on, a fresh, unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. Coming to stand by your chair, he extends his hand. “What do you say we continue this elsewhere?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” you tease. “I don’t think you’ve been persuasive enough.” 

John leans down so his face is close to yours. He smells of beer, cigarettes and something earthy, like fresh dirt after it rains. The heat radiating off him is as intoxicating as his smirk. 

“I want to shag you,” he says in low voice. “I want to get a room, throw you on the bed and ravish you, for hours.”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest and you swallow thickly, trying to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Oh?” you ask. 

John chuckles, moving in closer. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he changes direction to speak softly in your ear. “I want to hear you moan my name.” 

Damn does that sound good. Getting drilled by John in some hotel sounds dirty and something the old you would never go. But tonight you’ve been reborn, and the new you loves the idea. 

You bite your lip, mind made up. “Let’s get a room then.” 

John grins wickedly and this time when he extends his hand, you take it. Fingers laced together, John leads you through the restaurant to the exit. There’s a hotel across the street and you can’t help the slight embarrassment when you step into the busy lobby. Everyone ignores you and John, for which you’re grateful. It’s clear why you’re there; you’ve clearly been drinking and neither of you have luggage. 

“Excuse me, love,” John says to the front desk agent. “One room, two nights, king-sized bed.” 

The woman gives the both of you a knowing smile as she checks the computer. John doesn’t seem to care about the look. He slides his arm around your waist to draw you in close. 

“Two nights?” you question in a low voice.

John nuzzles your neck, sending a powerful tingle down your spine. “Call me barmy, but I like to take my time.”

“I'd go with ‘cocky’,” you say. 

“Yeah, that too.”

The room is simple and clean. He puts the Do Not Disturb sign on the door before closing it. You slowly slide off your jacket, unable to help the nervous trembling. John comes up behind you, taking the jacket only to toss it onto a nearby chair. The hair is brushed away from the back of your neck, only to be replaced by a gentle kiss. 

The sensation sends a wave of desire through you. “I’m nervous,” you admit. “This whole thing is a first for me.” 

John spins you and pulls you in close so that your noses brush. “No need to be nervous, love,” he says. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” Suddenly a devious smirk crosses his face. “In fact, let’s play a little game.” 

“What kind of game?” you question. 

Fingers trailing down your cheek, John says, “I won’t make a move unless you say. You’re going to tell me what to do to you. Sound good?” 

“Kiss me,” you say instantly. 

John lunges forward, lips crushing against yours in a hard kiss. You fling your arms around his neck with a groan. His body lines up to yours almost perfectly and the unmistakable feeling of his hard-on sends a thrill of excitement through you. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, but also something dark and seductive. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, requesting permission. 

You grant it with another groan, allowing him to glide his tongue along yours. Hands worm into his trench coat, coming to rest on his waist. John cups your cheek, deepening the kiss as he tilts your head up towards him. When you part, you’re panting. His breath mingles with yours and you have to stop yourself from kissing him again. 

“Do you have protection?” you ask as John latches onto your neck.

“Aye, in my pocket,” he says. “Tell me what you want next.”

“Unzip my dress and touch me,” you order, pushing the coat off his shoulders. He lets it slide off his arms and reaches behind you to search for your zipper. You tug on the knot of his tie, loosening the fabric. 

Your dress slinks down your frame to pool around your feet. John takes a step back, breaking contact so he can take you in. Eyes hooded, John looks starved while his hands slide down your sides to come to rest on your hips, holding you in place so he can dive in for another kiss. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt. 

“What do you want tonight, love?” John mumbles, lips brushing yours. 

“To be worshipped,” you say instantly. “John, I want you to make me feel good. Make me feel sexy and wanted.” 

John tangles his fingers in your hair, his other arm circling your waist. “Oh, Johnny can do that,” he says. “Tell me what to do next.” 

“I don't need the game anymore. Do whatever you want,” you plead. You’re no longer nervous. You’re turned on and jumpy with excited energy. “Fuck me, John.” 

John grabs your thighs and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. Kissing heatedly, he carries you over to the ridiculously large bed. The mattress is softer than anything you've ever slept on. John lays you down, covering your body with his. You take his face in your hands,  diving your tongue into his mouth, only to have his meet yours halfway. His hands slide under you and you arch your back enough for him to undo the clasp of your bra. The garment is discarded and John grasps your breasts, giving both a firm squeeze. He nips his way down your chin to feast on your neck, while you give his hair an excited tug. 

Heat courses through you the second his lips wrap around one of your nipples. He sucks greedily, pinching and tugging on the other with practiced ease. You drag your eyes open to watch the display, moaning when you see John’s tongue swirling around the stiff peak. His gaze meets yours, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You dig your heels into his lower back, and he instantly grinds down against you as he kisses his way to your other breast. Every nerve is on fire and your panties are practically soaked. You pry one of his hands off your chest, bringing it between your legs. 

“Oh, you’re wet,” John coos, rubbing the damp patch. He licks the valley of your breasts, placing wet kisses down your torso. Along the way down, he playfully tongues your belly button, grasping the sides of your underwear. 

You lift your hips, letting him drag the material off. John tosses them to the side and you’re left naked, say for your strappy heels. John stares hungrily down at you, taking it all in. 

“Where to start, where to start,” he says in a sing-song voice. 

You sit up. “How about with your clothes,” you tease, toeing out of your heels. 

John unbutton his shirt as he dives in for another kiss. He shrugs out of the garment while you explore his chest, feeling the muscles clench under your fingertips. His skin is scalding compared to yours; it's almost unnatural. You wrap your arms around him, bringing your chests together for the first time. 

John groans at the contact, strong hands running up your back to crush you to him. His mouth is relentless, tasting and nipping at your lips. He tries to draw away, but you follow him, addicted to those expressive lips. 

John breaks the kiss to stand, reaching for his belt. Eager to continue, you rise on your knees to help. He ducks down for more kisses, letting you undo his buckle. The pants button comes next and you reach in to curl your fingers around his cock. John moans into the kiss, pushing his pants down impatiently. Unfortunately, he hasn't removed his shoes and pitches forward as they tangle together. 

Crashing into you, John falls onto the bed, sending you both into a fit of giggles. “Bollocks,” he curses, rolling over to sit next to you. While he rids himself of the rest of his clothing, you come up behind him, placing gentle kisses on his neck. You explore his chest some more, running your fingers through the dark patches of hair. 

With a frustrated kick, John frees his legs and is finally naked. You can see his cock now, long and thick, framed by dark blond curls. You shift so he can lay down, allowing you to straddle his waist. A hand slides into your hair again, tugging you down. You can feel all of him now when you kiss, held down by his strong arms. 

“I want to taste you,” you whisper, not realizing he’s said the same thing until he chuckles. 

“Great minds,” he says, brown eyes glittering and full of promise. He squeezes your thigh. “Turn around, love.” 

Grinning excitedly, you turn yourself so you’re facing his cock, but before you can do anything about it, he grips your hips and tugs you backwards, burying his face between your legs. You gasp with surprise, bracing yourself on his chest as you struggle to sit up. 

John’s tongue explores your slit, stroking along the seam teasingly. Panting, you lower yourself down again, giving your hips an experimental thrust. John grunts, tightening his grip so you're forced to grind onto his face. Your hand closes around his cock and it pulses with excitement. Just as you wrap your lips around the head, his tongue finds your clit, making you cry out. 

“Mmm, you’re tasty,” John coos. 

Face flushed, you drop your mouth on him, making his hips buck upwards. He swears when you pull off. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him before running your tongue up the length of him. 

John moans and dives in for more, lips and tongue dancing along your throbbing cunt. You take him in as far as you can, gagging slightly when he hits the back of your throat. John is grunting and growling as he laps at your arousal, pausing every now and then to swear. You let him slip out so you can moan, gasping when you feel a rough thumb press down on your clit. 

After that it’s hard to suck on him at the same time. John seems to have a similar problem, stopping each time you take him all the way into your mouth.  So you take turns, tasting each other with enthusiasm and eagerness. He’s smooth against your tongue, the scent of him filling your nostrils, invading your senses until all you can focus on is his cock and the way his hips thrust up into your mouth. 

“Bloody hell,” John swears, nipping your thigh. 

Without warning, two thick fingers plunge into your hole. You arch your back, letting John go as you let out a cry in surprise. 

“You’re gaggin’ for it,” he growls, watching your body swallow his digits hungrily. 

“More,” you beg, bracing yourself on his thighs as you grind backwards. “God, I’m so wet, John. I'm so ready.”

“Yeah, you are,” John grunts. 

He withdraws his hand, pushing you down so he can sit up. You wind up on his lap with his cock pressing against your thigh. His mouth latches onto your shoulder, one hand gripping your breast while the other dives between your legs again. 

“Condom?” you ask. 

The foil package seems to appear from nowhere and you’re too wound up to question how. You pick it up and tear it open, hands shaking as you remove the rubber. John trails kisses to your ear, flicking his tongue along the shell as you roll the condom onto him. 

After a few experimental strokes, John falls, bringing you with him, your back to his chest. He grips his cock, pressing the tip slowly into you. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat as you take him in, gasping when you feel yourself stretch to accommodate him. 

“Shit,” you swear, gripping the bed. 

“Gonna shag you real good,” John promises, gripping your hips. With one deep thrust he buries himself in you, making you shout. Jesus you're stretched wide, so full you can barely breathe. Sucking on your neck, he sets a steady pace, fucking you while you squirm on top of him. 

“Wish I could see us,” you confess, touching your breasts as they bounce from his thrusts. 

“That so, love?” John asks. 

He begins to chant, but you’re too lost in the pleasure to understand what he's saying. All you can focus on is his thick cock filling you so deliciously while his hands glide across your skin. 

John cups your chin, forcing you to look up. “Open your eyes,” he purrs in your ear. 

You do as he says, eyes meeting his in the reflection on the ceiling. Funny, you don't remember there being a mirror. “How...where-?” you can’t finish your thought. 

“Magic,” John purrs, nipping your shoulder. 

He grips the back of your thighs, bringing your knees to your chest so he can bury himself to the hilt. Watching it happen makes you gasp, more turned on than you ever thought you could be.

“Fuck, John,” you growl, tweaking and pulling your nipples. 

“So bloody sexy,” he groans. “Look at you take my cock.” 

You can’t break eye contact with him, enchanted by the heated gaze he’s fixated you with. 

“Feeling wanted now?” John asks, hips speeding up. 

Every glorious inch of John makes your cunt hotter and wetter. Your orgasm is building and he lets go of one of your legs so he can toy with your clit, two fingers swirling it around teasingly. You fist the sheets, twisting them as you’re brought closer to the edge. 

“John,” you pant, your sweat slick bodies gliding together as he fucks you. 

He says your name, words slurring from a mix of alcohol and pleasure. “Watch yourself come,” he demands, lips sucking your earlobe before his bites down. 

You don’t even recognize the woman in the mirror. The woman with John is wanton and gorgeous, completely free as she drowns in pleasure.

“Fuck I’m coming! John, I’m coming!”

“Yeah, love. Fuckin’ come for me,” John groans. “Fuckin’ do it.” 

You shut your eyes as that dam in you bursts, flooding your body with wave after wave of pleasure, your slick washing over John’s lap. Skin slapping skin, you come harder than you've ever come with another person. You ride the orgasm hungrily, bouncing on and squeezing John's cock as much as you can.

John swears, pulling out of you abruptly, to your disappointment. You open your eyes in time to see him rip the condom off, and then he’s fisting his cock, calling your name as his release erupts from him, coating your thighs and abdomen. 

You sag on top of him and let your eyes fall close again, willing your pounding heart to slow down. 

John collapses underneath you, and you can feel his heart pounding as he struggles to catch his breath. He pushes your sweaty hair away from your face, kissing your cheek at the same time. It's a simple gesture, with more intimacy than you've ever thought possible. He gently turns so you slide off his chest and onto the soft bed. You doze for a time while he moves around the hotel room, coming back to yourself when you feel a towel cleaning the dried spunk from your skin. 

When you open your eyes, John smirks down at you. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

You giggle, beckoning him forward with your finger. John leans down, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Not just for the amazing sex. But for dinner.”

John smiles, tossing the washcloth and straddling you. “Night’s not over yet,” he says, eyes glinting mischievously. “We’re just getting started.” 


End file.
